


Stay Long, Love You

by VeryImpressive



Series: Jewel [2]
Category: Big Bang (Band), K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crime Lords, Crimes & Criminals, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Smut, Gangsters, Jiyong is stupid, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Pining, True Love, Violence, and T.O.P is dense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 01:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17234552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryImpressive/pseuds/VeryImpressive
Summary: Jiyong never wanted much in his life, except him.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> You're either reading this because you're porousing the GTOP tag, or you're here because you're reading the parent story to this and you've seen it in the newly created series marker. If it's the former, this can be read as a stand-alone, though I suppose you'll have to accept it for the in-piece plot and ignore the out-piece plot of Jewel. If you're reading this as a companion piece to Jewel, enjoy -- after the latest chapter, I couldn't help but go out on this little, tiny tangent. 
> 
> Enjoy!

He was twiddling his thumbs.

Admittedly, he was _excited_ – but he was so caught up in his own self-loathing that he had no chance to stop and enjoy it. More often than not, the anticipation was sweeter than the actual event. Still, Jiyong couldn’t help but _hate_ the fact that he was in this position again, _crawling_ on his hands and knees to Choi Seunghyun. Not only that, but he was doing it as if his life depended on it. Jiyong had only been home a few minutes before he felt the all-too familiar stirring in his gut, though he was amazed that he was able to last the full hour before he called for his driver.

They’d known each other since they were children.

Like so many that entered the vast and unkind auspicious of Park Jihyuk’s organization, it seemed like the best option they had. They’d grown up in the _same_ neighborhood, they’d faced the _same_ challenges. It was only through extraordinary efforts that one could break through the barrier of poverty that surrounded them, and in hindsight, Jiyong was amazed to think that he had ever thought it possible. It was amusing to think that there had ever been a time in his life where he thought he could live a legitimate life and make the same living through strictly _legal_ means.  

So, they began like most did, _on the streets_. They pushed whatever product that their handlers had for them. It was rough, and he understood that it was _only_ because of their bond that they survived. It was through those long years that they were able to leverage their reputation into higher responsibilities. Still working together, they were eventually able to steamroll _everyone_ that stood in their path to the high table, and when the time arrived, it seemed like a just reward.

He’d been friends with Choi Seunghyun since he was seven years old. He’d known Choi Seunghyun when the _fearsome_ TOP was a distant dream. Jiyong had been a fixture in his bed since he was fourteen years old. If he was being entirely honest, he couldn’t remember the exact moment where he could seriously say that he loved him, and not in that platonic, brotherly way.

It seemed like he _always_ had, and with a deep understanding of the world that they lived in, he resigned himself to only having him some of the time. Somehow, he figured that it was alright for him to have him some of them time, as long as he had him at some point. Jiyong could afford to be at his beckon call, as long as Seunghyun was sending out his call to him, and _only_ to him.

He could swallow the women and the men that flocked to him. They were members of the high table, it came with the territory. Temptation, vice, _avarice_ , they were things that came with the job. Jiyong found that he _could_ do it, but that didn’t lesson the bile that rose in this throat. Relegating himself to coming to Seunghyun whenever he wanted a piece of his ass seemed to tamp down on it. It had worked perfectly until it _didn’t_ , until the day he swore off of Seunghyun.

It was easy to maintain it if he stayed away from him. For the first time in what seemed like his _entire_ life, he’d navigated the strange path of a life without the omnipresent Seunghyun in it. He had been on the business end of an addiction for his entire life, and to cut himself off, to go cold turkey, was rough. Jiyong had been proud of himself for managing it in the time that he had.

A month, he hadn’t spoken to Seunghyun in a _month_.

Coming from fifteen years of fucking like _rabbits_ on any given occasion.

When he’d received word that Jimin had called the table into session, he knew that he was risking his sanity. Even he had been surprised by how easy it had been to throw all of that away.

A look, a few forced words, and he found himself feeling the effect of their intrinsic bond.

“He knows that I’m coming?” Jiyong asked his driver.

“Yes, sir.”

He turned and looked out the window of his limousine as they crossed the threshold of the great stone gate. To the few people that had the privilege of crossing that divide, the world they entered was bizarre. For as long as he could remember, Seunghyun had fancied himself as something of a gentleman. That aspect of his personality, the one that he’d always taken great care to hide, always struck him as pretentious and inflated, but he had to admit that it _suited_ him.

And when the time came where he could strut his money, Seunghyun spared _no_ expense.

First, he bought the land, and once he’d sealed it off from all the world, he set about the task of transforming it into his romanticized ideal of an honest country estate. The land around the central compound was worked by a dedicated team of farm hands that cared for the animals and kept it clean. As for the house, Jiyong could seldom remember an occasion where Seunghyun had fretted over something as he did with that house. Every bit of it was born out of his mind, out of his artsy, _pompous_ ideal of what novels and films made the lives of aristocrats out to be.  

Leaning to his left, he spied the compound as it came into view through the front windshield.

The Victorian style home had been built from the ground up. He had spent considerable amounts of money to ship those materials from across the world. Once he did, he set about building a world for himself that he’d always dreamed of. What struck Jiyong’s eye before anything else was the series of columns that aligned on the front of the house. Corinthian in style, they were made out of solid marble, and they seemed to be _choked_ by delicately cared for ivy-growths.

They’d always clashed in his opinion, but Seunghyun had been _hell bent_ on them.

He could still remember the day they came, and the _look_ on Seunghyun’s face when one of the workmen nearly dropped one of them while lowering it into its place. Jiyong could also remember the look on that specific _workmen’s_ face when Seunghyun threatened his life in kind.

Even now, the memory drew a reluctant smile to his face. 

At his core, he knew that Seunghyun was a gentle soul. He became feared out of necessity, but if he’d had his way with his life, he would have preferred to achieve all that he had by peaceful means. That being said, it still didn’t change the fact that he’d attained this crushing wealth by crushing _others_ and making no apology for it. He was able to build this fantasy by assuming his role as the ruthless enforcer of Park Jihyuk, and now Park Jimin, when he left his little bubble.

And Jiyong supposed that was another factor in his decision to swear off of him.

Whenever he entered this world, whenever he came up this delicately manicured gravel driveway, and came into the shadow of that deliberately classic home, he felt like an outsider.

He supposed that he’d finally come to a point in his life where he was not longer content to be a booty call. To stand by each and every night and see him flirt with everything with legs, flex his charm on them, and then to be shepherded through this dream at _his_ convenience, it broke him.

It broke him in pieces to finally understand that while he loved Seunghyun, Seunghyun _didn’t_ love him. Not in the way that he did, not in the way that _he_ was willing to do. He wouldn’t be content to be loved on the weekends, and put in second place in the real world, in _public_. That was what made this giving in harder than it should’ve been, that’s what made him hate himself.

As they neared the bend in the driveway, he felt his pulse _quicken_.

Their lives were joined so closely, so inextricably linked, that to communicate through intermediaries could only go so far. They were members of the high table, they were going to see each other at _some_ point. Seunghyun had practically eye-fucked him through most of the meeting anyway, and the tension had gone up another notch. With that look in his eye, that yearning, it was hard to imagine that he could ever think that he could swear off of Seunghyun for good.

When the limousine came to a stop in the shadow of the house, he felt himself overcome by a strange calm. An acceptance, a strange sensation of rolling over and playing dead, in a way.

Looking up to see his driver open his door, he remained keenly focused on the seat ahead.

Seunghyun was an addiction, and this addiction was something that he never wanted to end.

After a few moments of protracted silence, his door opened, and he freed himself from his tortured revere. Still, his heart kept racing. Jiyong reckoned that no doctor, or any drug, could replicate the feeling that he found himself in the middle of. One small fright, one startle, and he was certain that Seunghyun’s staff would be treated to the rare sight of jumping out of his skin.

Offering his driver a thankful smile, he blew out a breath and slid his legs out.

Taking a sharp around as he exited the car, Jiyong took a moment to take in a deep whiff of the fresh air. This place had its appeal, no matter what he might have thought about it in his darker moments. It was a peaceful, a strange dichotomy to the outside world that was so terribly violent.

Hearing a chuckle above him, Jiyong stilled, recognizing that baritone _anywhere_.

On the ivy-covered veranda that stat atop of the columns was _Seunghyun_.

Shirtless, leaning against the intricately cast rail work, cigarette hanging from his mouth.

With a strand of hair resting on his forehead, Jiyong felt himself submerged in a wave of arousal.

He had seen Seunghyun at his most innocent, and he’d seen him at his most terrifying. Here was a man that was capable of killing someone and donating to the homeless in the same sentence, without hesitation. Jiyong had seen it demonstrated time and time again that he was a living, walking, breathing contradiction that would gleefully weave his charm and rage on the world.

He looked like every worst nightmare that Jiyong could fathom.

_‘Fuck,’_ Jiyong thought.

He could not honestly remember the last time he’d wanted him as badly – though he would admit that he _had_ wanted him this badly at some point or another throughout their long relationship.

Watching as the older man pulled the cigarette from his mouth, Jiyong stilled again as he spoke.

“Come on up,” Seunghyun had to shout to be heard. “I’m sure we have a lot to discuss.”

Marking the end of his _order_ with a smirk, he put his cigarette back in place and pulled away.

Jiyong wondered if Seunghyun thought him capable of doing anything else. 


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last piece of this trash -- I hope you enjoy it as much as I genuinely enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Note: it gets a little nasty in a section below, but nothing that's too outlandish.

He was ushered into the room without a word.

Without fanfare, without _ceremony_ , it was certainly a change of pace from what he was used to receiving in this room. Granted, the last time he’d been in this room, he’d been screaming at him. He’d thrown everything that they’d ever shared together back at him, and when he’d left, he’d been fully intent on leaving that room and never, _ever_ returning to it.

Seunghyun sat at a table in the corner of the room, legs crossed, with a cheap paperback novel lying face down on the table in front of him. In any other circumstance, he might have been appalled at the _variety_ of stereotypes that he seemed to revel in perpetuating. With an ashtray nearby, Jiyong highly doubted that there wasn’t a loaded gun in one of the drawers that lined the table – it would fit Seunghyun like a glove.

It was only after they were alone with each other did either of them make a noise.

As a smile slowly drifted across Seunghyun’s face, Jiyong came to the painful realization that if he didn’t assert himself, and quickly, then this was about to be turned on its head. It would be one of these rare instances were Jiyong would cave in first.

As if he’d sensed his train of thought, Seunghyun’s smile grew openly cocky.

The older man held a single finger up as he adjusted his posture. “Forgive me love, but as I recall, the last time we were here together, you told me that you would never be in here again.”

That was true enough, though Jiyong would never give him the satisfaction of admitting it so easily.

With his hands clasped tightly together behind his back, he made a show of turning and began to take in the room. He knew that they _both_ knew that he was stalling, but for the sake of preserving his dignity, he knew he’d never call him out on it.

He did know the room well, in fact – he’d memorized it.

The more he cast his gaze around, the more realized that the walls, painted in a deep scarlet, were adorned with _new_ , and ever-more _expensive_ pieces of artwork. All of it looked as if they were museum-exhibits, and Jiyong wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if that’s where they came from. He wouldn’t put it past him to go out and out-bid the highest offer.

He knew that Seunghyun would _steal_ them if he wanted them enough.

With Seunghyun still saying nothing, Jiyong took it upon himself to start moving about the room itself. Maneuvering himself around the plush furniture, he was encouraged by his ability to pretend that he was the least bit interested in them.

Each individual piece of artwork seemed to outclass the last one in the order of decoration, and the overall theme of them all seemed to highlight Seunghyun flaunting his taste and his _wealth_.

It was the only discernable pattern in this madness.

As Jiyong reached the corner of the room, he turned slightly to find Seunghyun shadowing him.

Feeling pleasantly dwarfed by his height, he found himself enjoying having to look up.

He was overwhelmed, by him, his size, his body heat, _everything_.

The smell of tobacco and cologne that lingered around him provided a potent aroma that was distinctly _him_. It was one that would always, no matter how long he lived, conjure images of them pushing dime bags of pot on street corners, home, and _nights_ with Choi Seunghyun.

Jiyong looked down to Seunghyun’s lips, which were set into a slight frown.

“You’ll ruin your fancy paintings with all of that smoke,” He said.

That caused the frown to contort into something _resembling_ a smile. Not that genuine smile, the one that reached his eyes and showed off that full set of teeth. This was that same _cocky_ smile, the one that he turned to when it was most prudent to be a gangster.

The gangster that he was.

“I can always buy more,” Seunghyun dismissed with a shrug, and stepped closer.

Even as that strange calm overtook him, and he came to realize that the casual indifference that he treated his property with was at the root of this issue, he found himself taking a step back.

The picture to his direct left jostled upon the impact as he took _another_ step back and finally collided with the wall. It did not escape his notice that he was, _literally_ , trapped between a rock and a hard place – and that he couldn’t get away.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he found the courage to look up into those eyes.

“Stop that,” Jiyong demanded.

Somehow, he kept up that smoldering look, “Stop doing what?”

Jiyong held back the urge to strike Seunghyun’s perfect face with an open palm.

Even in the distant days when he was quite sure that Seunghyun’s couldn’t return his physical affections, and before he’d been _thoroughly_ corrected by the man, he’d been convinced that he did it on purpose.

Never _necessarily_ cruel, he seemed to delight in the fact that Jiyong tripped over himself for his attentions.

“That fucking thing you do.”

As if _that_ was a clear explanation.

But it was to him, in any case.

“An interesting choice of words,” That finally drew a genuine smile out of him, the smile that Jiyong found he loved. “And I still can’t help but notice that you haven’t answered my question from before, almost as if you’re avoiding answering it?”

Jiyong scowled, Seunghyun _did_ know what he was doing.

_The asshole_.

Instead of answering him, he shook his head, “You’ve always known how to press my buttons. You’re doing this on purpose, even after I told you that I didn’t want to do this, _whatever the hell this is_ , anymore.”

Seunghyun’s face slackened slightly, though his eyes lost none of their fire.

“Are you finally going to let me explain myself?”

“There’s no need,” Jiyong insisted with a furious shake of the head. “I’m not willing to do this with you anymore, not if you think that I’m just going to follow you around until I die.”

Once the thought lodged itself within his mind, he found that it began to spread to the others, like a malevolent contagion. They had been through countless scrapes together. There were far too many memories between the two of them for him to not let those traitorous little thoughts into his mind, questioning the sincerity of everything that they ever had.

Seunghyun had the nerve to look offended.

Could anyone blame him? Could anyone blame him for second guessing all of those times that they’d sworn to have each other’s backs?

“You still think that I don’t love you?” Seunghyun seemed dumbfounded.

“Of course, you love me,” Jiyong insisted. “But are you in love with me?”

It rang out as pathetic that he would need to be reminded of this when they had been together for so long. They had been together longer that some people had been married. Truly, in many ways, the two of them were the textbook old married couple.

But it was a fair question.

After so long, he wanted, no – he _deserved_ to know if the man before him would feel as rudderless as he would if he didn’t have him in his life. He wanted to know if Seunghyun would fall down on his knees and pray for his return if the day ever came where he left for good.

Jiyong had never expected much in his life, never wanted much either – save for him.

Seunghyun’s lips compressed into a thin line.

“At least you’re allowing me to respond this time.”

Jiyong shook his head. “Your silence said everything the last time.”

The older man seemed to contemplate this for a moment, and then he saw fit to pull away from him. Thankful for the space, Jiyong stepped away from the wall to watch Seunghyun begin a slow, methodical and utterly angry stalking pattern of the room.

He didn’t understand what was so _difficult_ about the prospect.

Not foolish enough to hope for such quaint dreams like children, or a home with a white-picket fence, he simply wanted to know that Seunghyun loved him in _return_.

Staying stalk-still, Jiyong swallowed as Seunghyun finally stopped.

“How long have you and I been together?” Seunghyun asked.

Jiyong shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it _does_ ,” Seunghyun answered, growing louder. “How long, Jiyong?”

Feeling the weight of his gaze come down upon him, he fought past his nervousness and looked down to his feet, “We’ve been together for fifteen years.”

“How long?” He pushed.

“Fifteen years.”

Jiyong felt whatever he had left in the way of resolve in this fucked up situation dissolve into thin air, he found his voice growing _louder_ – and his patience going out the window.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like for me to love you?!” He snarled at Seunghyun.

He could admit that he had seen that expression on the other man’s face before, but never once had it been aimed at _him_. Never once did he ever anticipate being on the receiving end of that look that could shake the hardiest of men to their very foundations.

“Easy enough for you not to talk to me for a month,” Seunghyun answered.

They glared at each other from across the room.

“Why would I want to be around you when you strut around this place like a tool?”

As quickly as it came over him, the quicker Jiyong found himself deflating.

He was _tired_ , he was so very tired of carrying all of the anger around, and he didn’t want to do it anymore. Part of him had hoped that this visit would allow him the opportunity to relieve himself of all of that baggage. Hatred was poisonous – and anger needed to be reserved for those that were deserving.

And as angry as he _wanted_ to be with Seunghyun, he couldn’t force himself.  

Aside from all of that, Jiyong didn’t want to fight with him. To fight with someone that was practically apart of him was a difficult thing to do.

Together, they had overcome so many seemingly insurmountable obstacles that stood in their path to prosperity. He simply lacked the drive to constantly live in a state of anger with him anymore. _Whatever_ happened here, he’d wanted to walk away with a clarity as to where they stood, but not anger. If it ended here, if their relationship could no longer continue in the way that it always had, he could work _around_ that – he could _deal_ with it, as long as they didn’t fight.

He loved him too much to fight him.

“I should’ve left you on that street corner that I found you on.”

_That hurt._

It was rather amazing to find that after all of this time, he still could find the sore spots, and could bring down an amazing strike. Jiyong tended to give his early life little to no thought at all. As much as it had shaped him, as much as it had shaped the both of them – there was no point in looking back on it, no point in taking a knife to wounds that would never, ever heal.

But instead of rising to the anger that had flashed in Seunghyun’s eyes, he found himself going in the _other_ direction. Perhaps it was a hidden well spring of deep seeded _insecurity_ , or perhaps it was a bluff on his part, Jiyong _truly_ didn’t know – he’d taken great care to keep it from the man.

All he knew that was when the words began to flow, they were unstoppable.

“Maybe you _should_ have,” Jiyong sent him a smile that was as poisonous as it was without any trace or hint of mirth. “Maybe I wouldn’t have spent half of my life spreading my legs for you, and maybe I wouldn’t have been the whore that all your little friends seem to think that I am.”

He knew what people thought about him.

Over the years, his inner circle for his operation had never made their feelings on him unknown. Seunghyun and himself never made any secret about the fact that they were together before, during and after their rise to power. As a result of some misplaced threat, or jealously, those that governed his organization on a day-by-day basis took to calling him Seunghyun’s whore.

His _top_ whore.

And those choice of words were not incidental.

For the longest time, he had been convinced that Seunghyun had known about it.

That he’d permitted it.

It had just been another thing for him to resent, and even after it became clear that Seunghyun wasn’t aware of the fact that he was having that bullshit hurled at him, he still found it within himself to hold it against him. How could _they_ know what buttons they were pushing? It was part of the reason that he’d found himself attached to Seunghyun’s hip throughout most of his life.

There were certain things that one had to do to survive.

If the glare that Seunghyun was sending him was any indication of where his thoughts were, Jiyong could probably wager that they were going down the same old dusty road as his.

Jaw set in a deep frown, Seunghyun’s breath seemed to be growing steadily heavier.

And _heavier_.

“What have they been calling you?” Seunghyun seemed to bite off. “And who?”

There was that tone of voice again, the one that brokered no argument. It was the commanding tone that Seunghyun foisted upon those unsuspecting lessor beings that stood in his way. If he was a lessor being in Seunghyun’s eyes, he wasn’t entirely sure – but he _knew_ that he was pissed off. It _was_ genuine, despite whatever doubts he might have on other things, he could not deny that the idea of what he’d just told him had _enraged_ him – enraged him to the point of losing control.

“Seunghee,” Jiyong shrugged. “Minho, Taeyong, Bobby, all of them.”

And the only reason that he didn’t exact some retribution _on his own_ was out of respect for Seunghyun himself. As much as he loathed the idea of those people drawing breath, he understood that Seunghyun depended on them – and to _him_ , they had been nothing but loyal.

Seunghyun’s nostrils _flared_ , and he didn’t fail to notice his fists clenching.

“And _what_ have they been calling you?” His tone was flat and tinged with _menace_.

Jiyong shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, turning away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I wasn’t asking you if you _wanted_ to tell me or not Jiyong! Tell me what they fucking said!”

Later, he would reflect on just how ashamed he was by how badly he flinched at Seunghyun’s raised voice. Outside of that room, outside of the confines of Seunghyun’s ordered world, he was just as feared. Inside of it though, he was that underprivileged kid that had to grow up way too fast. He hated that Seunghyun made him vulnerable, he hated that he had that power over him.

“They call me your top whore,” Jiyong admitted after a moment. “And they infer that the only reason I got to the high table was because I am your _whore_. Keep in mind, they say this to my _face_ , and they seem to come up with new and inventive ways to tell me this _every single time_.”

What he heard next caused him to spin back around to Seunghyun and do a double take.

He’d put his fist through the wall.

Whatever self-induced trance that he’d found himself in was _erased_ in that moment. Jiyong shook his head and turned to look for the liquor cabinet – ignoring the sharp curse that came from Seunghyun as he attempted to pull his fist out of the wall. Spying the varnished cabinet in the corner of the room, Jiyong began to strip off his shirt as he paced to it, looking for the vodka.

“You’re an idiot,” Jiyong chastised as he knelt down and grabbed for the nearest bottle of open, _pure_ vodka. Not caring about the floor, he began to douse his shirt in the alcohol. It was probably a useless gesture, but it was the only one available. “I understand that you’re you and you have a reputation, but only you would get so angry that you put your fucking hand through the wall!”

With his vodka-soaked shirt in one hand, he stowed the bottle back in the cabinet, and stood up, turning to find Seunghyun back in his chair, _stewing_ , and cradling his fist. Practically flying upon him, Jiyong forced him to surrender his fist. He absently noted the series of cuts that littered Seunghyun’s knuckles and he shook his head. Taking his shirt, he laid it down on the cuts, and took a small amount of amusement in the expletive he let out when the cuts came alive with pain.

Feeling a wave of cold air brush against his bare back, he leaned down and began to wrap his shirt tighter against Seunghyun’s knuckles. Running it around the back of his hand, he attempted to tie it into something of a manageable knot, and all the while, he felt Seunghyun’s eyes on him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Seunghyun asked.

Jiyong sighed, keeping his head down. “Because they’re your friends, your underbosses.”

“You matter more to me than them,” He barked. “I’d never put them above you.”

He tried his best to ignore the _flush_ that came to his face at those words.

“I can promise you, they will suffer _terribly_ for this,” Seunghyun promised without a moment of hesitation. “If I don’t have them killed outright at any rate – but that still leaves the two of us.”

As soon as his shirt was secured firmly around Seunghyun’s knuckles, Jiyong stood up and locked eyes with him. Seunghyun’s gaze was intense, and his face was bathed in an untold fury that promised retribution – but Jiyong found that there was no satisfaction in that look of his.

“I want you all the time,” Jiyong told him. “I don’t have to have other shit – but I need to know that no matter what happens, you and I are in this together without any worry of anyone else.”

That same fury that had been in Seunghyun’s eyes softened.

Somehow, he felt that they had just crossed a threshold in their relationship.

In the privacy of that room, Kwon Jiyong stood before Choi Seunghyun in one of the more vulnerable moments of his life, unsure of what was going to happen next. He usually prided himself on his ability to see at least a few steps into the future, but he saw _nothing_ from here.

But he was dragged out of his revere by Seunghyun reaching forward to grab his hand.

He stood motionless as Seunghyun began to kiss his hand, over and over, in a reverent gesture.

“Seunghyun, _stop it_ ,” Jiyong protested, despite the fact that he made no effort to move his hand.

Shaking his head, he continued, “It’s my fault that it got this way, I should have paid attention.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Jiyong shook his head. “You won’t change things.”

He raised a brow in challenge, finally lowering Jiyong’s hand, “You don’t think I will?”

Jiyong shook his head. “No.”

The laughter that escape him in response sent a pleasant chill down his spine.

“As far as _those_ people go, I can’t really describe how close I am to picking up my phone and ordering their deaths,” Seunghyun said, not blinking. “But I’d prefer to make things right with you, first. I love you, you are the only person that I have ever loved – that’s never changed. If you’re jealous, you don’t need to be, you’re the only one that I’ve ever had any eyes for too.”

“You are _lying_ to me,” Jiyong scoffed. “I don’t believe that.”

Both of his eyebrows rose, “Believe what you wish, it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Somehow, he couldn’t find it within him to believe that TOP, Choi Seunghyun, whatever mask he wore, had never had his eyes turned by anyone else. They had known each other for their entire lives, they’d been together over half of his life – but he’d always operated under the assumption that at _some_ point, he had strayed.

It was just another bitter pill that he’d learned to swallow.

And the more he dwelled on it, the more defiance seemed to bubble up to the surface.

Putting his hands on his hips, he cocked his head. “I’d ask you to prove it, but what can you do?”

A rush came through him as Seunghyun stood and raised himself to his full height.

“I have a pretty good idea of what I can do, especially to you,” Seunghyun sounded amused.

Jiyong had a pretty good idea as well, and on the subject of pure fidelity, he’d always found it odd that he, _himself_ , had never had eyes for anyone else but Seunghyun. Actually, as he took in the details of Seunghyun’s painfully handsome face, he _could_ believe it – if reluctantly. That face had been the fixture of his dreams, of his daydreams, of his fantasies. From the elaborately designed ones, to the simplistic ones of Seunghyun merely bending him over the nearest table and fucking him, it had always been _him_ – and somehow, he doubted that would ever change.

Folding his arms over his chest, Seunghyun cocked his head. “You have an answer?”

He found his eyes drifting downwards.

The love of his life was broad shouldered, muscled and every bit the picture of a work of art.

There had been a time when he had wanted nothing more of Seunghyun than for him to take him across his knee and spank him until he cried. There had been times when he wanted his touch at every moment of the day. Again, it was yet another thing that put a massive strain on their lives.

Jiyong looked up and locked eyes with him, “I am tired of comprising, I’m tired of _sharing_ you.”

“Then fuck _everyon_ e else,” Seunghyun answered his rhetorical question. “It’s you and me.”

There was some part of him that felt like crying in joy at those words. In truth, it’s what he wanted, it’s what he _always_ wanted. When they were children, it had been them against the world, and as they grew older and more experienced in the world, _somewhere_ along that beaten path, that had changed. He wanted it back, he wanted it back more than anything in the world.

Swallowing, he looked down at his feet for a moment, gathering his courage, and then back up.

“…Alright, I’ll bite,” Jiyong nodded once. “You said you wanted to do things to me?”

The smile that snaked itself across Seunghyun’s lips was devious.

* * *

 

Sex with him was a _journey_.

It was a voyage that he’d taken more times than he could possibly remember, but of the hundreds, perhaps _thousands_ , of times that he’d found himself on, under, or in _front_ of Seunghyun – it had never lost its zeal. As much as it could be so intense that it blinded him, the rush of endorphins, the adrenaline, the _toe-curling_ pleasure that filled him when Seunghyun drove home against that place inside of him – it was the greatest high that he could ever get.

That being said, it had been a _month_ – thirty days without this.

Without the feeling of Seunghyun’s cock stretching him, _bottoming out_ in the best of ways.

Caught in a loose straddling position, Jiyong threw his head back and cursed as Seunghyun placed his hands on his ass, spread his cheeks as far as he could, and began to furiously piston _in and out_ of him. Each strike against his prostate sent a fierce wave of pleasure up his spine. It was the most pleasant of aches, causing that tiny ball of pleasure in the pit of his stomach to relentlessly _vibrate_.

“ _Fuck_!” Jiyong shouted as Seunghyun delivered a sharp smack to his right ass cheek.

He fell forward against Seunghyun’s chest, and before he knew it, Seunghyun was kissing him.

With his hair draped loosely around them, it felt strangely a tad more intimate.

Then again, they were in a terribly intimate position to begin with.

The frenzied _slap_ of Seunghyun’s pelvis against the flesh of his ass provided an infinitely _dirty_ background track to the silence that overtook them. That constant slapping noise, and the muffled groans and grunts from their interlocked lips were the only sources of sound in the room.

As the pace increased, Jiyong felt himself growing more and more light headed.

And he felt himself growing closer and closer to that _peak_.

Breaking away, he _gasped_ for air and rested his forehead against Seunghyun’s as he struggled to keep a handle on himself.

With their breath intermingling, and a sheen of sweat covering their bodies, he felt another shock of pleasure as Seunghyun reached up to capture his bottom lip between his teeth.

It only served to put more pressure on that string, heavier and heavier – and he felt himself cry out when it finally _snapped_.

He felt every muscle in his body _contract_ as he came, and he groaned against Seunghyun’s mouth when he felt himself spasm, and then finally clench around the width of Seunghyun’s cock.

Jiyong was in the midst of desperately trying to come down from his climax, panting, and running his hands through Seunghyun’s sweat soaked hair when he heard _him_ let out a shout and curse.

He felt his thrusts falter and finally slow before that warmth began to blossom from deep inside him. Radiating _outwards_ , he basked in its heat, and his lust-addled mind absently marveled at the tenacity with which Seunghyun approached exercising his privilege.

The privilege of cumming inside of him – a privilege that had _solely_ been his.

It didn’t take long for Jiyong to feel himself surrender, and slump against Seunghyun’s chest.

Feeling Seunghyun’s chest heave, he tried to center his thoughts through the fatigue.

“Give me twenty minutes,” Seunghyun said being light pants. “And we can go again.”

He laughed, despite the not-so unpleasant ache that encompassed his body and slapped his chest.

“Alright,” Jiyong said. “I believe you.”

Seunghyun nothing, but Jiyong was sure that he could feel him smiling.

It didn’t matter if he was covered in bruises, sweat and spunk – inside _and_ out.

It was a pleasant way to a kill an afternoon.

* * *

Seunghyun was careful to act after night had fallen, and Jiyong was fast asleep in his bed.

He knew that there was going to be some overlap, but it was nothing that they couldn’t handle.

Lit cigarette in his right hand, and with his cellphone in his left – Seunghyun cast his gaze up to the clear sky. That was the greatest appeal of living in the countryside, he could see the stars, he could bask in their glow – and they had a strange ability to allow him to order his often-chaotic thoughts.

Bringing his cigarette up, Seunghyun took a deep, _burning_ drag, and held it in.

The day had certainly been illuminating.

Unlocking his phone, he tossed his cigarette carelessly off the side of the veranda and brought his phone to his right hand. Blowing out the cloud of smoke, he scrolled through his contacts until he came across the _perfect_ name for what he had in mind.

Seunghyun was surprised by how stupid he’d been – and how much it had nearly cost him.

Finding Hyun Bin’s number, he held the phone up to his ear and began to tap his fingers against the railing.

He’d be more than happy to admit that this had been on his mind _all_ day.

Everything would be fine with the business – they were safe from _any_ wrath that Yoongi, Namjoon and Jimin were planning to bring down against the traitors at the high table, and he would protect Jiyong from _any_ threat against them.

He would also clean his own house – and he would do it tonight.

“What?” Hyun Bin sounded annoyed.

“That’s no way to answer the phone, hyung,” Seunghyun joked half-heartedly.

He received a growl for his joke, “I was _asleep_ – what is it that you want, boss?”

Not saying anything at first, Seunghyun mulled over his words, and finally decided.

“I want you to get the boys together, and then I want you to pay a visit to all of the underbosses, Minho, Bobby, Taeyong, _all of them_ ,” Seunghyun ordered. “And then I want you to kill them.”

_Understandably_ , Hyun Bin said nothing in response – he probably thought that he misheard.

“Come again?” He asked – now he sounded completely awake.

“You heard me,” Seunghyun said.

He was met by another few seconds of protracted silence.

“You want it done tonight?”

Seunghyun found himself nodding, “Yes – and call me when it’s done.”

Hyun Bin was silent _again_ , and after a heartbeat, he spoke, “Alright.”

Satisfied, he murmured his thanks, disconnected the call – and locked his phone.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done it earlier.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The second part will be around soon, the part with the nasty stuff, or at least as nasty as I can make it without embarrassing myself. If you're reading this as a part of the Jewel series, there is a new chapter in the pipeline, as well as a rough outline of a Baekhyun/Chanyeol/Kyungsoo one-shot (rather in the vein of this one) in the works for this universe. 
> 
> Hope you liked it.


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